


the assassin's farewell

by WisdomPearl



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Angst, Assassin - Freeform, Death, Gen, Suspense, nagisa centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24316879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WisdomPearl/pseuds/WisdomPearl
Summary: Nagisa is pursued and he must find a way to stop the pursuit.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	the assassin's farewell

The machine inside Nagisa slammed against his chest, his breaths ostensibly knocked out with every force. The force only grew as so did the celerity of his breaths, and his head commenced to whirl his vision around. The tears of the empyrean didn’t avail an inordinate amount, and albeit he found such things quite calming, today it seemed to pound at him with a rage he had never imagined. 

He didn’t want to achieve anything in his state: he was far too impuissant and far too vulnerably susceptible. He was, after all, alone, and the man only thought this as a thrill. The thrill of taunting death and injury, and as he bathed in all that, everything from junior high seemed to coarse back into him like a waterfall. 

But this was a different scenario. 

He didn’t want that thrill anymore. He couldn’t possibly fathom why he mentally conceived it was enjoyable in the first place. Now it seemed homogeneous to a thread of poison rather than a gushing waterfall. A trickle of poison or a waterfall of fresh water, Nagisa most certainly was aware of which he would prefer. 

He felt his heart slam into his chest once more and he seemed to wake up again. His feet were sore and pounding from the distance he traversed, his hands full of blisters and dirt from the bushes he swam past, and his face, glistening with sweat. 

He didn’t know how he got into this situation in the first place. This wasn’t what should’ve transpired. What had he done? What had he done? 

He auricularly discerned the tramping of frantic steps coming more proximate and more proximate, and Nagisa was tenacious to widen that gap. He clutched his jacket and darted to the most proximate hiding place he mentally conceived was best for him. He panted and panicked and gasped for the saccharine air that he had longed for whilst he was in that sweaty mist. 

This wasn’t a thrill anymore. It was a call for Death to halt. He didn’t want to be ruined anymore. He spent so much time climbing out of that intricate shifting maze and he didn’t want to get pushed back down. Why would he waste his life anyway after building it back up? 

But then again, such a hypocrite he is, because he had jumped back into that maze with a blindfold of stormy rage. 

And now, he would pay the price for his recklessness. 

The steps behind only grew more expeditious and louder, the dampened grass blades under them flattening in vain. The beetles and ants scattered away in minute distributaries as they scrambled for their own lives, some of them drowning in the perturbed puddles. But the footsteps weren’t wrathful towards the bugs that were below him; they had locked onto another life that held more weight. 

Nagisa had bitten his tongue multiple times to desist from drawing attention, not that he could scream even if he wanted to. Despite the thundering storm, his throat and mouth were as dry as a corpse’s and his lips were cracked and bitten. He could remotely make a noise erupt from his unutilized vocal cords. He only had one thing on his mind, one thing. 

Run. 

And run he did. He dashed away in the crying night, his sodden clothing weighing him down as they stuck to his skin, the water dripping off him in a steady stream. The rain didn’t seem to care anyways. 

Nagisa clutched his jacket again, only this time with numb and frigid fingers. He clenched his fist in a futile endeavor to keep his fingers aroused, and while he thought that it was working, his fingers gradually lost stamina and the crumpled piece of fabric was anon let go. The wrinkles had carved paths for the raindrops to slide through the soused piece of apparel. 

His hands now stung as if a thousand invisible ants had crawled up his hands and bitten the ridges in his fingers. He ignored this feeling: he had encountered such a phenomenon multiple times and had now become redundant in his life. 

He ducked abaft a shrub, the mud and puddles splashing contaminated water everywhere. He could auricularly discern the pausing of the footsteps as he heedfully listened acutely for any signs of danger. 

“Nagisa! I just want to talk!” 

He didn’t budge, his breaths shallow and wispy in the freezing night. 

“Nagisa! Why did you do this?! I thought you--” 

As if by some miracle, Nagisa found the energy to utilize his beaten legs to shoot up from abaft the bushes and utilize his weapon, the muffled sound private but not consummately silent. 

A growing circle of red had appeared on the other's chest, a spout of the same red trickling down from his mouth and nose. Albeit he was virtually gone for, the victim still could whisper the slightest of words, words with such a potency against Nagisa that he had heard the voice as if it were shouted in an auditorium. Nagisa widened his orbs in the shock as the words were coerced out. 

“I thought you...said you wouldn’t...be an assassin anymore...” 

Thud. 

Nagisa lowered his gun, the silencer warm from the force of the shot. He couldn’t bear to express any emotions to the blood pooling and sinking into the wet ground. His throat was still a desert that blew a sandstorm throughout his mouth, his breath sultry and rapid. 

He finally coerced a burdened smile, his lips pursed together in fear and tension. 

“I’m sorry I lied.” 

**Author's Note:**

> ahaha...please don't kill me-


End file.
